#I do not know where this desire comes from

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ʟ ɪ ʜ ᴀ ᴠ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Show Aegon II Targaryen x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

˚꒰notes꒱‧ English is not my first language. Gifs belong to @joekeerys. Hope you enjoy!

Aegon never wanted the throne, never wanted the responsibilities that came with it, but what he does want is you. From the moment you entered his life, everything changed. You’re the one thing that makes sense to him, the one thing that feels right. Aegon is a mess of conflicting desires, plagued by his trauma, but when it comes to you, his love is the only thing he’s sure of.

Aegon has never had anyone in his life who genuinely cared about him. His family is fractured, and he’s spent his whole life drowning in self-loathing. But when you show him the slightest bit of affection, it’s like a drug. He needs it, needs you. You’re his lifeline, the one person who can make him feel like he’s worth something.

He’s incredibly clingy. Every time he sees you, he’s either hanging off of you, resting his head on your shoulder, or playing with your hair. It’s as if he can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment. His hands are always on you, in a way that’s both affectionate and a little too possessive.

“I can’t stand it when you’re away,” he’d murmur, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay with me. Always stay with me.”

Aegon’s insecurities run deep, and that means he’s always on edge when it comes to other people. He’s constantly worried that someone will take you away from him, that you’ll realize you deserve better and leave him behind. His jealousy is all-consuming, and he has no problem making sure anyone who even looks at you the wrong way knows you belong to him.

If someone tries to get close to you, Aegon’s mood shifts instantly. His playful, drunken demeanor turns cold, his eyes narrowing as he watches every move they make around you. He doesn’t trust anyone—not your friends, not your family, and especially not his own family. In his mind, they’re all threats, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you to himself.

“No one will ever love you like I do,” he’d say, his voice low and serious. “You know that, don’t you?”

He needs to know everything about you—where you are, who you’re with, what you’re thinking. He’ll start off subtly, asking about your day, wanting to know every little detail. But soon, it becomes more than that. He wants to control every aspect of your life, making sure that you’re always with him, always safe, always his.

He’s the type to show up unannounced, drunk and demanding your attention, whether you want to give it or not. If you try to push him away, he’ll sulk, using his own pain and insecurities to guilt you into staying by his side. It’s manipulative, but in his twisted mind, he thinks he’s doing it out of love.

“You’re mine,” he’d whisper, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

Aegon knows he’s not the perfect prince (and later king). He’s flawed, broken, and he hates himself for it. But when it comes to you, he’ll use that brokenness to his advantage. Whenever you try to pull away, he’ll remind you of how much he needs you, how lost he’d be without you. He’s not afraid to play the victim, to make you feel like leaving him would be the cruelest thing in the world.

He’ll come to you late at night, drunk and miserable, talking about how everyone hates him, how he’s not good enough for you. His words are filled with self-pity, and he’ll cling to you, practically begging you to reassure him that you’ll stay.

“You’re the only one who cares about me,” he’d say, his voice cracking with desperation. “Don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

For all his selfishness, Aegon genuinely believes he’s protecting you. The world is dangerous, full of people who would hurt you or take you from him. In his mind, he’s the only one who can keep you safe. He’ll go to any lengths to ensure that no one can harm you—not even your family or friends if he thinks they’re a threat.

He’ll isolate you if he has to, keeping you away from anyone who might try to come between you. He’ll even use his power as king to keep you locked away, safe in the Red Keep where no one can touch you. To him, it’s an act of love—protecting you from the dangers of the world.

“I’m doing this for you,” he’d say, his eyes wild with a mix of desperation and affection. “No one will hurt you if you’re with me. I’ll burn anyone who tries.”

Aegon’s love for you is twisted, born out of his own pain and insecurities, but it’s real. In his mind, you’re the only thing keeping him together. He’s broken, damaged by years of neglect and abuse, and you’re the only one who makes him feel whole. He’ll do anything to keep you by his side, even if it means crossing lines no one else would dare to cross.

He’s the kind of lover who would rather see you dead than let you leave him. If he can’t have you, then no one can. His love is suffocating, dangerous, and all-consuming. But in the end, he truly believes that he’s doing it all because he loves you.

“You don’t understand,” he’d say, tears in his eyes as he holds you close. “You’re all I have. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♥︎Pick a picture:💕⭐️Channeled messages from your future self⭐️💕

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

⭐️If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!⭐️

💕Masterlist💕

💙Pile 1:

"You are closer than you think to the life you truly desire, just trust the process."

"The change you fear so much is the door that will lead you to what truly belongs to you."

"Do not underestimate the power of patience; what is to come will be much greater than you imagine."

"Your intuition already knows the answer, it is time to listen to it and act with confidence."

"Remember: everything you have overcome has prepared you for what is to come. There is no turning back."

"Sometimes, moving away from the known is necessary to make room for the new and extraordinary."

"The love you give yourself is the first step to attracting what you deserve in all areas of your life."

"It is time to let go of what no longer serves you; the universe has something better in store for you."

"Your personal power is unbreakable. Do not let anyone or anything make you doubt your ability."

"Opportunities are in front of you, you just need to take the first step with faith and courage."

Hi Pile 1! Your future self is so wise and clever, they are in a powerful position for sure. It's time to take the first step you need, you are capable and are ready for what's next!

💖Pile 2:

"The calm before the storm is the sign that something big is coming, get ready to receive it."

"Your efforts have not been in vain. The universe is preparing the ground for your success."

"You don't have to have all the answers now. Sometimes, the most important thing is to trust the path."

"You are breaking free from what was holding you back. Peace and clarity are closer than you think."

"Your energy is aligned with change. Don't resist the inevitable, embrace the transformation."

"The time to heal has come. Emotional release is your first step towards fulfillment."

"The stars have aligned your destiny for a greater purpose, trust that everything happens for a reason."

"It's time to manifest what you want. The universe is listening to your deepest thoughts."

"You are in the process of rebuilding yourself, give it time."

"What seems uncertain now, will become clearer in time. Allow yourself to trust the journey."

Hi pile 2! You are in a transformation process and your future self wants you to know that everything will be fine, just give yourself the time you need and don't push to hard; be gentle with yourself, a big hug for you pile 2.

💕Pile 3:

"Your capacity to achieve great things is far beyond what you imagine. Trust your potential."

"The opportunities you seek are on your way."

"You are ready to receive everything the universe has prepared for you."

"Every challenge you face is an opportunity in disguise. You are being prepared for something much greater."

"The key to success is constant action. Don't stop, the universe is aligning everything for you."

"Doors are opening, and you hold the key. Don't doubt your ability to take advantage of every opportunity."

"Your dreams are valid and attainable. The first step is to believe in them as much as you believe in yourself."

"You are attracting success because you are aligned with your purpose. Keep believing, keep moving forward, the best is yet to come."

"Your capacity to love and create is infinite. Everything you put your heart into doing, becomes art."

"You are exactly where you need to be. Every step you take brings you closer to the person you are destined to be."

Hi pile 3! You are definitely working hard for your dreams and I see that you will be someone very successful! Feel that you are someone artistic, who connects with the most sincere parts of yourself when creating, this will lead you to find your way. Keep going pile 3!

💕💖Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated 💖💕

[shellxrls]

— r. cameron / reader

warnings: DUBCON — rafe roofies and then rapes reader / unprotected PinV / misogyny / mention of drugs (cocaine & roofies) / mention of virginity / inspiration taken from maddy & nate (euphoria)

synopsis: rafe cameron x fem!reader… sometimes rafe needs to slip a girl a little something at a party to get some, and where’s the shame in that if he knows they want him anyway, they’re just too prudish to admit it.

After you’ve successfully been dosed, he makes you sit on his lap for lack of space on the couch so he can rock you on his knee until you’re tired, delirious, and horny enough to be lifted upstairs, legs dangling against his broad back while you hiccup and giggle next to your upside-down view of his chest.

His nose is numb from the coke and his brain heady, one could argue almost as inebriated as you. But the lines make him oversaturated, not cock-dumb like what he slipped you — eager hands already pawing at his zipper and coming to a fumbled close around the metal just before you’re tossed onto a bed, spread aloof like the crumpled sheets.

“You’re sooo nice to me Rafe.. when all the other guys were sayin’i shoulda gone home,” you end with a belligerent nod of your head, slurring throughout and biting your lip in sexless embarrassment, chewing the skin raw enough to reflect your torn consciousness instead.

Rafe simply smirks, chin protruding outwards while his eyes flit between your thighs peeking through your overridden dress and your tits falling out of the frilly décolletage.

“You a virgin?”

“Mhm” you lie, despite the reeling dizziness occupying your headspace. Besides, nobody likes a whore — especially not rafe, uninterested in ‘stretched out pussy’ as you vaguely recall from his earlier conversation crowded around friends.

He approaches closer now, knocking your trembling knees apart with one of his beefy thighs, bulge forward and creasing in his pants as your dialogue gets him hard already, imposing his physicality in all its glory: “What like— you’ve never even been fingered before?”

You shake your head, tousling curls before staring back up at him, “Only my own.”

To that he chuckles, the noise grating and stunted when he uses it as an excuse to adjust himself in his pants, drawing his chest down further until he’s now hovering above you.

“Uh y’know,” he tongues at his cheek, “I could take care of that for you, practically all spread open an’ready huh?”

Like it wasn’t his plan to get you dumb and stuffed by the end of the night, even if it meant bringing out his inner brute, he was taller, faster, stronger — he could do it if he really wanted, but he made it easy for you instead. Could feel the roofie worming its way into your consciousness, jamming rationality and flooding you with hedonistic desire that would trigger your sex endorphins and make it so that you would want this, that he could brag about it without you opening your bitch mouth the next day and claiming ‘rape’; an ugly word anyways, coming out harsh in a spit, nothing like what rafe was doing to you, especially not with the way you were looking at him.

Your mouth opens, then closes, seemingly flailing on confirmation when really your jaw is getting slack and numb, and so you feel encouraged to nod instead, the movement making your thoughts go all bubbly, refracting Rafe’s glinting eyes at your ‘consent’.

He wastes no time with prep, shoving your dress up so it’s tucked over your tits, basal temperature remaining warm and stuffy despite the exposure to cool air. A good indicator though, means rafe can tell it’s working, and just how long he has before you might start struggling.

When he pulls himself out of his shorts it’s surprising, of course, everything about him is pretty, one would expect a tangible reflection of the cruelty on his features but instead, his dick looks cutesy, if not for the intimidating size.

Spit trickles harshly down his palm when he wraps a hand around himself, tugging quickly and using both his legs to split you around his midriff, leaking and achy despite the inattention you’ve received.

“You want this dick so fuckin’ bad huh,” he laughs at the puddle of arousal leaking out underneath you, considers swiping a finger into it to stick into your mouth but he doubts you’d be able to breathe right now if he interfered with the half catatonic features on your face, and it’s not like he’s out for that type of violence anyways (or at least not right now).

When he pushes himself inside you’re silent, pupils retreating in favour of a squeal — ironically a very Rafe-esque trait — while Rafe bites down into his cheek and rolls his palm over your chest to ease the pressure of the fit.

“Thought the roofie woulda loosened you up a bit..” mumbled out while his stomach clenches, now bracing his entire heavy arm across your abdomen and pinching skin when you involuntarily quiver at the weight, “You can take it c’mon.”

He thrusts hard and uncoordinated, fucking like he knows he’s hot, or at least how many more pills he has left in his stash. Knocking against your insides and entirely focused on the way his dick feels, knowing how easily he could move onto another victim, and just how much he wants to enjoy you in particular before it’s over.

Sweat clings to both your bodies, the slick getting louder when each thrust manages to pound a squelch out of you, spattering against the sheets or catching on Rafe’s balls to stick the both of you together with messy tendrils.

You’re pliant, let him move your legs so your ankles entwine behind his back, heavy hand locking them together and giving you both little breathing room; just enough for him to spill obscenities straight into your emotionless face with hot, sticky breath — he laughs, manically and seemingly at his own joke, before deciding to share it with you, “just don’t go running ‘bout me ‘assaulting’ you right. You wanted this, not my fault my cock’s so good the slut has to go dumb hmm?” mocking you with a teasing lilt and a raised brow.

You pat at his swollen chest, it’s all you can manage to do, urgent to get him off you, give you a little space atleast. He only shoves himself in further, lips puckering to sloppily catch yours, saliva straying down your chin and jaw instead.

Your outright discomfort seems to get him going even more, thrusts increasing in increment despite becoming more careless, tip catching your clit when he slips out and hurries to stuff it back in.

When his face pinches up, brows tensed and nose furrowed, you can tell he’s going to cum, the friction between your bodies almost unbearable with the heat that suddenly envelops him.

A slew of curses are hissed out, casual vulgarity being one of Rafe’s favourite expressions of self, and then he’s pulling out and wrapping a fist around himself to paint your tummy white. Ropes shooting watery on your tummy and painting him a proud picture.

He shakes himself off on you a final time before tucking his wet dick back into his briefs, cleaning himself up entirely unbothered by the dissected mess of you laying drugged and fucked out on the bed.

“My head feels funny.”

“Yeah, that’s cause I fucked it out of whack.” He says it serious but you can imagine his upturned lips at his own sick sense of humour.

“Where are you going?” you sit up groggy, chest tight.

“Uhh, back downstairs, got some more yayo I needa lay off— you can stay here or.. wherever, doesn’t matter.”

He has the decency to shut the door fully when he leaves, yet you’re still alone and forced to lay in the waste of one of Rafe Cameron’s nights out.

[henneseyhoe]

Right Where I Want You.

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Rough sex (Nothing too serious, she just chokes him a lil), Dirty talk, DOM!reader, SUB!Terry, Mommy kink (yeah you heard me, we get real nasty over here..), PWP, Short!, Not completely proof read.

SUMMARY: nah. lol

✮✮✮✮

the sound of clapping could be heard from the next room over even with the door closed. They both made no moves to quiet down either, the squeaky springs of the bed only applauded her on her bouncing, giving her the praises she needed for taking a dick this size. The stretch was delicious, the girth making her feel stuffed, and the length reaching places so deep that she could barely sit down all the way.

But how she rode was already enough for Terry, she didn’t have to sit all the way. He was already so gone. The way Terry was moaning her name with curses following, you’d think that was the only english he knew.

Her heels dug into the bed beneath them, the sensation of the soft silks against his bare skin heightening his pleasure. He had begged her just minutes before to use him, fuck him into his own bed and leave him wondering why you hadn’t come along sooner, why he didn’t come find you instead. He didn’t care if it was pathetic, there was some things he could live with happily without embarrassment. There was just something about you that could make a man kneel at your feet, cry, even.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She asks before moaning, her head lulling back for a second as she felt the tip of him brush over exactly where she wanted him the most. Her voice was so tantalizing, laced with a sweetheart tone and dominance as she knew she could take away what he needed the most in this moment; a tight pussy gripping his dick and a nut that would send him to another dimension. She knew damn well he was doing more than enjoying himself.

His abs tightened under his brown skin and he cried out, opting to hold onto the headboard instead of her hips to avoid her stopping like she did last time he touched her without permission.

“Fuck, baby!”

His hips bucked wildly as the sensitivity of him became almost unbearable. He hadn’t even came yet, multiple orgasms purposely ruined being the reason for the constant tightness in his balls and stomach. She, on the other hand, had already came three times. On his fingers, on his face, on that dick. Her cream stuck to his shaft and balls, making wet, sticky sounds every time her fat ass bounced back down on him, making him release another spurt of precum into her walls.

Her cream was still warm, used as lube to help her ride that thick dick efficiently enough to have him seeing stars.

And stars he did indeed see, the glasses perched on his nose providing no help with vision as he clenched his eyes closed.

“You boutta cum for me, baby? You know better to ask mommy first”

She runs her pierced tongue over her lips and begins rubbing her poor little clit with her dominant hand, ignoring the indescribable pain from sensitivity that also somehow brought her pleasure. She used her other hand to slowly wrap itself around Terry’s throat, squeezing slightly to bring him out his euphoric daze.

Once he had opened his eyes, he got to admire her again, eyes flickering from her pretty face to the urging hand between her thighs.

She went even harder on him, staring into his piercing eyes with a clear desire to break him just in case any other bitch thought she could do what she does to him. No one else could have him, a grown man, begging to be fucked, on his knees with his face in her lap.

“You like when I fuck you like this. You like when I use you” She guides him into a nod, a satisfied smile on her face as he agrees.

“Yes- fuck!”

“Mhmm. You love this pussy don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I love this pussy, mommy”

His words sent her into overdrive. That was the first time he had ever compiled and called her the self given pet name. She knew he was right where she wanted him now. There was nothing he wouldn’t say or do for her.

“Cum inside me, baby. Fill mommy up”

✮✮✮✮

💌- ngl this was just sumn sweet for the fuckin kids till december 🥴 did NOT mean for it to be like dis!

[nastybuckybarnes]

Rat in the Mouse Cage

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Summary: There's a rat on base, and all evidence seems to be pointing to you.

Warnings: lowkey mean!soap, angst, language, angst, ptsd, angry!ghost, more of mouse's backstory??,

Word Count: 5.5K

A/n: here it is, the angsty one. I had SO much fun writing this and I reaaalllly hope you guys enjoy! The next few parts are in progress but you should see them soon!

~*~

Soap opens the door to the boardroom, a room you've never been in before, and you follow him when he motions you into the room.

Captain Price is seated at the table, his eyes focused on a file in his hands.

The air is tense, and you're immediately on edge.

"Have a seat," Soap says, his voice hard.

You comply, sitting across from Price anxiously.

"Is... everything okay?" You finally ask, looking between the two men.

Price sighs and sets his paper down, finally lifting his gaze to yours.

"No. Everything's not okay."

You feel dizzy with how quickly the blood leaves your face.

"Ghost... is okay?" You ask after a long moment, squeezing your hands together as you prepare yourself for the worst.

"Yes, Ghost is fine."

You frown, glancing around.

"Where is he?"

Price and Soap exchange glances, the latter standing at the closed door with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

You've never seen him look so... angry before.

"Listen, I'm gonna give you this one chance to come clean. Don't make this any harder for yourself than it already is," Price warns softly.

"Who do you work for?"

The question catches you off guard, and you cock your head to the side.

"I... I don't work."

Price scrubs a hand over his face, the language barrier only adding to his anger.

He glances over at Soap, and the Sergeant takes that as his cue to clarify.

"We know you've been sellin' information. We need to know exactly who it is you work for. Who your buyer is."

Your mouth drops open in shock at the accusation, but he's speaking again before you have a chance to defend yourself.

"We've already caught you, so don' bother tryna lie your way outta this."

You shake your head so hard you make yourself dizzy.

"No, no! Not me! I-I don't talk to anyone! I don't give any information, I have no money I don't sell anything! Where is Ghost?" If Ghost is here, he'll listen. He can help you. He'll trust you.

You just need Simon.

"He's not here," Soap says coldly.

"I want Ghost, please!" You all but cry.

"Well he doesn't want you!" Soap shouts, slamming his hands on the table. "No one wants a filthy rat!"

The words are spat with enough malice to cut you deeper than a knife ever has.

"Ghost already knows the truth. Had to keep him away or he'd kill ya before we get answers."

The two men watch as Soap's words have the desired effect, your shoulders slumping forward and tears welling up in your eyes.

It hurts them to have to do this, to have to hurt you. You seemed so sweet, so innocent. But if it's what protects the team, so be it.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time," Price says, "Who do you work for?"

You bring your teary eyes to his and shake your head once again.

"I don't work. I don't sell anything and I am not rat."

You're innocent, and this is a hill you'll die on if you have to.

Price heaves out a heavy sigh then nods at Soap.

He walks around the table to you, ignoring the way you shake your head and try to rise up out of your seat to get away from him.

You raise your hands in surrender when he reaches you, not fighting him as he zip-ties your wrists together in front of you.

"Please, I just want Ghost, please," you beg tearfully, trying your hardest to hold back sobs as he marches you out of the room.

Soap says nothing, only leads you down a hallway that you've never seen before.

"Wh-where do you take me?"

He stops outside of an elevator, hand firmly holding your bicep as he waits for it to arrive.

"Holding cells. A cage fit for a rat like you."

Cage. Another cage.

You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate.

You can't go back in a cage. You won't.

The elevator doors open and he pushes you inside, following after and quickly pressing the button marked 'B'.

You stare at the back of his head as the doors close.

"I didn't do it," you whisper once again, your voice soft and full of tears.

Soap swallows his feelings, the regret carving a hole in his heart.

He truly thought you were good, that he knew you, could trust you.

He can only imagine how angry Ghost will be when he finds out who he's been sharing his bed with.

"You may have Ghost fooled, but I can't deny the facts, and they all point to you," he says stiffly.

Your heart hammers painfully in your chest as the elevator walls begin to close in on you.

You can't go back in a cage. You can't. It took you forever to break out of the first one, the one you called home. Now, you've found something good. A real home, a family.

Only for them to turn on you.

Before you're fully aware of what you're doing, you sweep Soap's feet out from under him. You then straddle his waist and knock your fist against his head, wincing when his head rocks back against the ground with a dull 'thud'.

It hurts you to hurt him, but you don't have time to dwell on that.

Instead, you rise to your feet and hit the STOP button, then grab his knife from his belt and slice your wrists free.

Tears cloud your vision as anxiety eats you, and you scrub your hands over your hair. You throw your head back as you struggle to breathe, only for your escape route to hit you right in the face.

Glancing between Soap's unconscious body and the roof opanels, you cringe internally at what you're about to do.

It takes a lot more effort than you thought it would to hunch him over where you need him to be, and then you're stepping carefully on his back and pushing the ceiling tiles aside.

You climb up and out, crouching on top of the elevator for a long moment as you try to figure out your next steps.

~*~

"Simon, a word," Captain Price says, intercepting the man as he returns to base.

Ghost tenses slightly, but falls into a step beside his superior.

"I wanted you to hear it from me first. We've taken your little mouse into custody for now. Soap brought her downstairs for detainment while we investigate further. All our intel shows that she's our rat."

His head snaps to his Captain and he stops walking.

"What are you talking about?"

Price sighs and extends a file for Ghost to read, but the man only stares down at it.

"I know how heavily you're... involved with her, which is why I wanted to be the one to tell you."

"Let me talk to her."

Price doesn't get to give him an answer, he's already marching toward the elevator.

"Simon, this isn't up for debate. She's guilty, and she'll be punished for what she's done. That's the way of the world, son. I hate that you got your feelings wrapped up in this, but-"

"We need to explore all other options before we continue with this. How could she be the rat? She never leaves my quarters unless she's accompanied by Soap or Gaz."

"That you're aware of," Price corrects, coming to a halt beside the man as he waits for the elevator.

"You can't be on this, Simon. You wanna talk to her, you can this once, but after that this is out of your hands. You're too involved."

Simon grinds his teeth together but remains silent.

He just needs to talk to you, that's all. Somehow, he'll prove you're innocent, and this will all be dealt with.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator doors open, and Simon's heart drops into his feet.

"Soap!"

Price is at the man's side in an instant, helping him into a seated position and checking his pulse.

His hard gaze turns to the Lieutenant.

No words are spoken. They don’t need to be. Simon knows exactly what’s going through the man’s head.

If you’re innocent, why run?

While Price checks on Soap, Simon steps into the elevator, looking up to where the tiles have been moved.

Your escape route, no doubt.

Through there, he's sure you've found a way out through the vents or into the ceiling, but either way he knows you're probably long gone. Lost now somewhere in the hidden areas of the base.

Rather than dwell on that, he's quick to help his Captain bring Soap to the medical wing, silent the entire time.

He knows you're not the rat. Deep in every fibre of his being, he knows. He can feel it in his bones. But his gut feelings aren't enough to sway his Captain.

"I want her found and I want it done quick. We keep this under wraps, no one is to know she's on the loose. The last thing we need is anyone in a panic."

"Let me just talk to her. She'll listen," he tries.

Price shakes his head, "what part of 'you can't be on this' do you not understand? You're dismissed, and if I catch you trying to involve yourself, I'm gonna hafta take it above my head," he threatens.

Ghost says nothing, only grinds his teeth together, turns on his heel, and marches out of the medical wing.

He's not sure where to go, spends a good amount of time pacing angrily through the halls as he tries to figure this out, folder from Price held tightly in his hands.

He hasn't read it yet, he can't.

Though he knows it's not you, he can't shake the fear, the ill feeling gripping his spine at the idea of you being capable of something like that.

Eventually, he discards the file on the desk in his office then heads up to the roof to smoke a pack or two.

He doesn't feel your presence until his third cigarette.

Trying to stay nonchalant, he takes another drag.

"I know you're here," he finally says, blowing out the smoke and looking down at the ground.

His mask is pushed up around his nose, and he doesn't bother adjusting it.

"I'm not going to tell them where you are or... bring you to them. I just... I just want to make sure you're okay. Please."

You stand in the shadows, eyes on his back as you weigh his words carefully before slowly stepping forward.

He turns to you, his heart breaking when he sees your puffy tear-stained face.

"Why do you want me to be okay? Why see me?" You ask, your voice hoarse from all the crying.

His brows pull together and he longs to reach for you.

"Why wouldn't I? All I've ever wanted is for you to be okay."

Your bottom lip wobbles and you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest as he steps toward you.

"Soap told me... what you really think," you begin, "that you... you don't want to see me. You-you think I'm rat, too."

"He's lying." He says the words immediately, without a moment of hesitation or a shred of doubt.

You glare up at him, taking a half-step back when he reaches for you.

"I'm not going in cage."

"I know." He takes another step forward.

"I didn't do it." You take another step back.

"I know."

"I didn't do it and they-they don't believe me. I save Soap's life! I do everything I can to help! To be good, and they don't believe me! Why don't they believe me?!" Your eyes blur with unshed tears and you suck in a hiccuping breath.

"I don't know," Ghost whispers.

His heart aches for you and he feels anger simmer deep within him at the lies spewed in a pathetic attempt at drawing a confession from you.

"They tell me you will kill me," you whisper, shaking your head as tears slip down your cheeks.

"I could never, Mouse." He takes another step forward, and he's almost close enough to touch you.

"If I don't go with them... they don't trust me. But if I do go with them... they still don't trust me. I am in cage... or they kill me."

Finally, he reaches forward, tilting your chin up and forcing you to look at him.

"I won't let that happen," his voice is harder now. "I won't let any of them touch you."

Your breathing gets quick again and he holds your hand, squeezing tightly.

"Breathe with me," he whispers.

You obey, following his breaths and successfully calming yourself down.

He nods, satisfied, then gently takes hold of your wrists, inspecting the angry red marks left by the zip-tie.

His eyes lift back up to yours and it's like you're seeing him for the first time that night.

"I didn't do it, Simon. Please, I didn't."

His eyes soften and he nods, cupping your cheek softly.

"I know, love. I believe you."

You finally nod, exhaling heavily as if a weight is lifted off of your chest.

He believes you. You knew he would. You knew you could trust him.

"But someone else did, and now they're trying to frame you for it."

It takes a minute for his words to process in your brain, but when they do you're frowning up at him.

"Why me? Who... who would do that?" What kind of horrible monster would do something like this?

"I don't know, little one. But I'll fix this. I just need you to trust me."

You blink your wet eyes a few times at him.

"How will you fix?"

"Just trust me." That's easy enough. You've been doing it since the moment you met him, and you have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

"What do I do?"

He pushes your hair away from your face and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a tight hug.

You relax instantly, melting into his arms and snuggling your head against his chest.

He rests his chin atop your head and sighs heavily.

"Just give me time, Mouse, I promise. I won't let them touch you."

Your hands ball his shirt into your fists.

"Where do I go?"

He sighs one more time and closes his eyes, trying to figure that out as well.

Eventually, he settles on telling you the truth.

"I don't know."

~*~

His fist is knocking on Price's office door later that evening.

"Come in."

He's inside the office before the words are fully out of his Captain's mouth.

"I know you said not to get involved," he begins, holding back an eye-roll when Price sighs.

"Simon," he warns.

"And if you tell me one more time then fine, I won't get involved on your side of this," he continues as if Price hasn't said a word, "but there's a rat here, and you need all the help you can get if you wanna flush them out."

Price rubs his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut.

"We already know who the rat is."

"No, you think you know who the rat is," Simon argues.

"All the evidence points to your mouse. Are we supposed to deny the facts because she warms your bed at night?" He snaps, growing tired of this.

"The facts are that you didn't even properly talk to her. You cornered her, ambushed her, threw vile accusations and lies at her to try and get some fake confession from her, and you're surprised that she ran. Those are the facts."

Price leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, you've talked to her."

Simon places his hands on the desk, leaning forward.

"Let me help."

Price shakes his head, "nothing comes between me and my team."

"Then let me help and nothing will."

Price's thick brows raise.

"Are you threatening me, Lieutenant?"

Silence hangs long and heavy between the two of them and neither man makes an effort to break it for a good few minutes.

Finally, Price speaks.

"The safety of my team comes first before anything else."

Simon nods slowly and straightens back up.

"If that's the case, then it's in the best interests of everyone involved if you let me find the rat. The real rat. Because I'm not lettin' a single one of you touch a hair on her fuckin' head."

It's quiet again for a few minutes, but this time Simon is the one who speaks.

"Three days," he says quietly. "That's all I need."

Price looks at him warily for a long while before huffing out a sigh and shaking his head.

"If you don't have the rat in front of me in three days, regardless of who it is, I'm gonna gas the building with your Mouse hiding in it. Best way to flush out a rat."

Simon grinds his teeth together but nods his understanding, turning on his heel and marching out of the office.

He doesn't go far, only down the hall to his own office where the folder lies.

He plops down in his chair and flips it open, ready to pour over every word until he finds something to work with.

He's only reading for about half an hour before he hears it, soft creaking coming from the ceiling above him.

He knows it's you, but before he can say anything, theres a knock on his office door.

"Come," he barks, tossing he file back on his desk as Soap pushes the door open.

Simon's eyes narrow at the man, the lies he spewed still tumbling around in his brain.

"Heard you visited Price... and you've met with yer Mouse," the mohawked man says, his eyes scanning the room.

"She's not in here."

Soap's eyes snap to Ghost's, the latter leaning back in his chair.

"How's your head?"

Soap nods, looking down for a moment.

"M'not concussed, wasn't her hit that got me, it was the bounce against the floor."

Ghost only shrugs, "can't say you didn't deserve it."

Sighing, Soap leans against the doorframe.

"Are we really gonna do this, Lt?"

"You're the one standing in my office, Sergeant," he counters, crossing his arms over his chest.

They're quiet for a moment, and he knows Soap is going to speak his mind.

"Everything points to her. S'only reasonable."

"And that's reason enough to lie? To spew nothin' but bullshit through your teeth? To scare her? You were tryna get her to confess to something she didn't do to make things easier for you."

Soap steps into the office, his own anger rising.

"That's not true. I tried to do my job. You find out there's a rat, you see the pile of evidence, and any rational person would follow the trail. S'not my fault you're shaggin' the broad 'n now you can' think for your bloody self."

Ghost is on his feet before the man is finished speaking, stalking toward him.

"That's enough, MacTavish," He growls, glaring down at the man.

"You're dismissed. Get outta my office."

Clenching his jaw, Soap turns and leaves without another word.

Sighing, Ghost sits back down and puts his face in his hands.

He knew his teammates had their doubts, but he never realized how deep that distrust went.

After a moment, Simon glances up at the vent in his office where he knows you sat listening to the entire exchange.

"I'll fix this, Mouse. I promise," he whispers.

Flipping the folder open again, he pours himself back into it, reading over everything. Every name, every date, every location, and every piece of information that got leaked.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he finds a comonality other than you.

"Mouse? You still with me? Knock once for yes, twice for no."

He listens patiently, and eventually, you knock once on the vent.

"Perfect. Now, I want you to follow the sound of my feet, okay? We're leaving my office."

Again, one knock greets him.

He rises from his desk and leaves his office, walking slowly and making just enough noise for you to be able to follow him from your place in the ceiling.

He leads you this way and that, finally coming to a halt in a utility closet.

Pushing the ceiling tiles out of the way, he climbs up on a few boxes and sticks his head into the ceiling, his heart easing when he catches sight of you again.

"You okay?"

You nod, crawling toward him.

"Come down here."

You obey, slowly climbing out of the hole in the ceiling and gasping when his strong arms wrap around you.

He holds you in an embrace far longer than he normally does, then tilts your chin up and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

"I think I've figured it out, little one. But I need something from you in order to prove it."

You nod eagerly, desperate to clear your name.

He sighs and nods once, then opens the door to the utility closet, looking both ways to make sure no one's around before motioning for you to follow him.

You do, staying only a half-step behind him as he leads you through a door and into a stairwell.

"This way."

You follow closely behind him as he leads you down a flight of stairs, looking around as much as you can as you try to figure out what his plan is, where he's taking you.

Finally, he leads you down another hallway and stops just outside of a door.

He looks at you, his eyes suddenly serious, far more serious than you've ever seen them, and you can't help the nervousness that chews at you.

You pick at the skin around your nails absentmindedly as he places a hand on your cheek, cupping it gently.

"'M'gonna ask you to do somethin'... somethin' that I know you're not gonna wanna do. But I just... I need you to trust me on this, okay?"

Your brows pull together at his words.

"Okay..."

"Do you trust me?" He asks his free hand on the door handle.

He doesn't open it. He needs you to confirm out loud to him and to yourself before he opens the door.

You nod, looking between him and the door anxiously.

He grips your chin more firmly and forces your eyes to stay on his.

"I need you to look at me when you say it. Do you trust me?"

Your stomach flips and you need to wet your lips before speaking. Your skin crawls at this, at the intensity of his gaze, the unknown behind the door.

"I do. I trust you," you finally confirm.

He lets out an audible breath of relief, and then he's pushing open the door and your heart is falling into your stomach.

Immediately, you shake your head and take a step back, only for him to catch you and halt you in your tracks.

"No."

Simons sighs, tugging you forward gently. "Mouse, please."

You shake your head more firmly this time.

"No," you repeat, "I-I can't. I won't. No more cage."

Simon looks over to the holding cells with a heavy heart, then pulls his eyes back to yours.

"I know. But this... this is the only way. You need to trust me."

You yank free from his grip and take a step away from him as tears cloud your vision.

"I-I didn't do it. Why do you bring me here?"

You look at the cells then back to his eyes and shake your head once more. You thought you could trust him. You thought he trusted you.

"Please, Simon..."

He reaches for you, tries to pull you into an embrace, only for you to step away once more.

Where you'll go, you have no idea. You just know that you can't... you won't go back in a cage.

"Mouse, I promise you. Three days is all I need. And then I'll come let you out and you'll never have to look at this place again. I swear it."

"No."

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He doesn't want to do this to you. If he could prove your innocence without this, he would. But he knows his team, his captain. He knows what it'll take to get the truth out.

"If we don't do this, they're gonna gas the building with you inside, and you'll die."

Your fiery gaze finally returns to his and for a moment he wishes it didn't.

"I'd rather die than go back in cage."

His heart cracks in his chest.

"Please, Mouse. For me. Please. Trust me, just this once."

Your bottom lip quivers as you stare at the cell, eyes getting distant as horrible memories of a past you long to forget creep up on you.

Finally, you suck in a sharp breath and turn to look at him again.

"Three days?"

He nods immediately, his shoulders relaxing while his eyes soften.

"Yes. Three days at most, I promise. I swear, on the memory of my nephew, three days."

Reluctantly, you walk forward, looking at every cell before stepping into the one in the corner. The largest and the darkest.

Your shoulders are tight by your ears as you look around.

It has a thin mattress on the ground and a toilet in the corner. Over half the cell is shrouded in darkness, and the other half is in direct view of the door.

It's bigger than the cage you grew up in, but the sick feeling doesn't leave your stomach as your freedom is brutally ripped from you once again.

Simon squeezes his eyes shut as he closes the door behind you, his heart hurting.

Knowing what he does about you, about your past, this feels like the ultimate betrayal. Arguably one of the worst things he could put you through.

But he needs to.

You flinch at the sound of the lock clicking, not turning to face him even as tears start to trickle down your cheeks.

"Mouse..."

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself in a pathetic attempt at comfort.

"Go," you whisper.

You don't want him here, watching you like some caged dog.

His hands wrap around the bars of your cell as he tries to get you to understand.

"It's not permanent, I swear."

"Go!" You snarl, a hiccuped sob following your words.

And just like that, the floodgates open.

You press your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound, but you can't hide the shake of your shoulders, the way you curl in on yourself.

It breaks his heart.

Silently, he takes a step back, then another, and another, pausing when he reaches the door.

"I'll be back for you. I promise."

~*~

Somewhere, somehow, between blinks, you fall asleep.

One moment you're closing your eyes to blink, the next you're waking up groggy and stiff.

Ghost stands at the door to your cell, a tray of food and a bottle of water in hand.

He needs to swallow the lump in his throat before he speaks, his heart breaking seeing you like this.

"I brought you food... thought you could use some company."

You're curled up in a ball in the corner of the cell, eyes teary and red as you glare at him.

He put you here.

It kills what's left of his soul to see you like this.

"Things are coming together, won't be much longer now, I promise."

You say nothing, only keep your icy cold glare focused on him as he sets the food down and slides it through the opening at the base of your cell.

The sound of your sniffles plagues him, and he wishes none of this happened in the first place.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes sad, before turning and leaving you alone once again.

When he finds out who's framing you, he's going to have his fun with them.

You're alone for only a few moments before the panic sets in once more.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you struggle to suck in short gasps of oxygen, nails scratching at your neck as you search desperately for your necklace, for the one item that's ever made you feel safe.

Tears run like rivers down your cheeks and you moan out your sorrows.

What would your mother think if she saw you?

She sacrificed everything, everything, for you to leave one cage only for you to willingly walk into another.

You shake your head at yourself, at your foolishness.

This was probably their plan all along. They probably know your father, they've probably gone to get him.

Scrambling to the tray of food, you grab the knife and desperately try to pry at the lock of your cell. When that proves fruitless, you jam the blade into the hinges, sobbing hopelessly.

The knife slides against the metal and finds its way to your thigh, slicing you nice and deep.

You hiss at the pain and drop the blade, stumbling backward then sliding down the wall.

It's useless. There's no escaping.

You start to feel dizzy as your thoughts overwhelm you, and before you know it you're whispering soft apologies and prayers in your mother tongue. Begging for peace, for freedom.

As you whisper the words, something dawns on you.

From the moment of your birth, you were promised nothing but pain. And life was only too eager to oblige; bestowing upon you torment after torment, loss after brutal loss.

Until finally, you broke free. You found your salvation, your Ghost, only for him to be another painful reminder that freedom is not something you were ever meant to taste.

~*~

Price meets Ghost in the boardroom at a ripe 0500hrs the following day, a steaming cup of coffee in a paper cup held tightly in his grasp.

Soap follows shortly after, on high alert.

Gaz trickles in last, the least tense of the three and possibly the most innocent in Ghost's eyes.

"So?" Price asks, looking around the empty room.

"Where's my rat?"

As if on cue, there's a firm knock on the door.

Ghost slaps the tablet he was holding against Price's chest and makes his way to the furthest corner of the room, content to spectate.

"Come in," Price says gruffly, eyes dropping down to the tablet in his hands.

His brows draw together, and then he's looking up at the newcomer.

"Corporal Matthews."

The young man salutes his superiors, then steps into the room, looking around curiously.

"What's going on?"

Price has already pieced it together, giving a short nod to the masked man in the corner.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Gaz and Soap exchange glances, the former shutting the door and leaning against it, blocking any form of escape.

The Corporal chuckles nervously and looks between the three men before swallowing hard when Price steps forward.

"So... you think it's funny what you've been doing? Care to explain to me what exactly you find so fucking funny about this?"

Soap clenches his jaw, dread bubbling in his stomach.

A sick part of him hopes Ghost is wrong, that Matthews isn't the rat, if only to absolve him of the guilt he's sure will eat him alive after all he did to you. All he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Enough with that, son. We know it was you. Don't make this more difficult than it already is," Price whispers. In his eyes is none of the anger that was there when he spoke to you. No, instead there's nothing but disappointment.

Simon's anger will be enough to cover the whole team, and then some.

"Well, what about the Lieutenant's whore? Huh?" Matthews defends, glaring at the men. They bristle at the words, eyes darting to the hulking man hiding in the shadows in the corner.

"Funny how you knew exactly what we were talkin' about," Soap says, stepping forward and squaring up with the man.

So it's true. He was wrong about you. And he has no idea what he's going to do to fix it.

Price hands the tablet to Matthews and watches as realization dawns on him slowly.

On the screen is live video footage of the holding cells where a familiar mouse is curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth.

"She's been in there for days. This latest leak? Happened last night. Couldn't've been her. We set you up, and you took the bloody bait."

"Well it's her fault anyway!" Matthews suddenly explodes, tossing the tablet onto the table angrily.

"If she wasn't fuckin' the Lieutenant then Jacobs would still be alive! If he didn't have his face in her snatch every night, he'd see that she's a fuckin problem!"

Silence hangs heavily in the room for a long moment as Ghost rises to his feet and slowly approaches the other man.

"You wanna tell 'im that?" Price asks, nodding over the Corporal's shoulder.

He glances back then does a double take, spinning around and backing up only to run right into Soap.

Ghost stops right in front of him, glaring down at the man.

Corporal Matthews tries to hold his ground, to not be intimidated by the huge man in front of him, but he's seen firsthand what this man -this beast- is capable of.

"Didn't get to have my fun with Jacobs, prick died quick. But you can bet 'm'gonna take my time with you."

[just-a-ghost00]

Love ladder spread - Your path to union

In this reading, we will look at your connection with the person on your mind and try to identify the energies you are in as well as the steps that could help you in manifesting union with this person. Keep in mind that, as this is a collective reading, not all messages may resonate with you. The theme for this reading is Disney's Sleeping Beauty characters.

Group 1 - Princess Aurora

Overall energy is the Tower. There may have been a major shift in the dynamic of this connection. Either you and this person suddenly stopped communicating because of a fall out or for some of you, you just recently met this person and this completely came out of the blue. Either way, both of you were deeply impacted by this event. A lot of things may also be happening around you at the same time in each of your respective lives. Sudden changes in all areas of your life may be happening. You both may be feeling a bit overwhelmed, like things are coming at you from all sides and you don't know which way to go first, what to deal with or how to deal with it. There may be a lot of confusion surrounding you because of those chaotic, all over the place energies. You don't really have the time to sit down and fully grasp what the heck is going on. You're caught up in the storm and it feels like there's nothing much you can do about it.

Your energy | White Numen

Despite the overall energy of your connection, you come off as quite confident and grounded. This may be because of your experience as a person and your maturity. It could be that this isn't the first time such a hectic phase is happening in your life. As you've gathered knowledge and tools, you are fully equiped to face the storm and survive it. Your energy towards this connection and this person feels pretty optimistic and proactive. You seem determined to make it work, no matter the obstacles set on your way. You have a lot of faith in yourself, in the Universe and in this person. You are looking at the future with hope and trust, choosing to keep moving on and go with the creative flow surrounding you. You understand that rather than fighting the storm, you should move along with it and see where it leads you. You may also be redirecting your energy towards previous goals you had left on pause, catching up with work and family. You don't seem as affected by the energies of the Tower as you could have been, or at least you do your best not to let that set you off.

Their energy | Ace of wands clarified by the 7 of cups

When it comes to your person, this Tower energy seems to have a rather positive effect on them. They feel quite agitated and impatient, not because they are frustrated or scared, but rather because their curiosity and new found knowledge is opening doors for them. It feels like what the Tower has brought in your person's life is a new perspective and a surge of creative energy. They feel inspired and new projects, new goals are emerging to the surface. When it comes to you and the connection, this person seems to be going through an awakening. They have a new found sense of interest for you. If they may have been resistant and hesitant in the past, their desire for you is being reinforced and their attraction is leading them to gain clarity on what they envision for the future. I get the feeling of someone starting to grasp the extent of their feelings and understanding the opportunities that could arise because of those. The possibility of it being reciprocated gives this person courage, determination and hope. This person is slowly but surely coming to terms with the fact that the possibilities when it comes to the both of you are endless and rather than being scared about it, this person is starting to understand that this is actually working in their favor. They have chosen to rejoice because their horizons are broadening. They are filled with ideas of what they want to do with you, what the future holds for you and they can't wait to find out.

The connecting energy of your union | The Star

This is a very beautiful energy as it shows that both your spirits are turned toward the other. You are intuitively very connected and both of you have this deeper inner knowing that this just doesn't stop here. That there is more in store for this connection. The Star being associated with Aquarius, I wouldn't be surprised if both of you were connected through dreams as well as the internet. Even though you are apart and not in direct contact, you are still being updated about this person's whereabouts and vice versa. You are united in the sense that you both dream of being reunited and wish for the connection to succeed. You are hoping for a better future and your thoughts are filled with love and acceptance for one another. I get an energy of unconditional love and support, which I think is absolutely amazing. Both of you are getting signs about the other. I'm specifically picking up on stargazing, seeing shapes in clouds or receiving messages through nature. Both of you could be fondly stalking each other a little. Though you deeply wish to be in contact with the other, I pick up on a mutual understanding that both should respect each other's private space and need for a break. It's like you have silently agreed on keeping your distances to focus on your own selves so that you could deal with whatever other priorities you had before coming back to where you left at. You and this person could get into contact again during Aquarius season (mid January to mid February). You could exchange through social media before being united in the 3D.

The steps you should take | Hermit

You are advised to keep your distances with this person for a period of time so that you can focus on your own self and reevaluate your life. Introspection is encouraged as this will help you figure out where you're at on your journey, what you hope for and want from this connection as well as what you are willing to do in order to manifest it, nurture it. If you still have some healing to do, this will be the perfect occasion to do so. But I feel like you already knew that and had already started to do such work. If that is your case, know that you are on the right track. Keep up with the good work.

The steps they should take | King of cups

Similarily to you, this person has to nurture themselves and focus their energy back on them. A lot of emotional healing needs to be dealt with. They have to find back a form of balance and security in their emotional sphere before they can let you in and share that love with you. This person could have neglected themselves over the years or their vision of love is outdated and in order to reach union with you, they have to go through a reset. To charge their batteries and be reminded of the fact that they matter too, that they deserve love and should be their first supporter. Once this person has found themselves again, they can be emotionally available for this connection to progress further.

Group 2 - Prince Philip

Overall energy is 7 of cups. It seems that both parties are busy with a lot of different projects and people. An energy of confusion may be surrounding the connection as you may not be sure of where you want things to go and what you want to do of this connection. The affection between the two cannot be denied. "But is that affection enough?" may be a question that goes through your mind a lot lately. You may feel overwhelmed by the countless possibilities and outcomes that this connection could have. Being confronted with so many choices may intimidate both of you. It feels like you are at a status quo. You may be in contact with them but the conversation isn't going anywhere is what I feel.

Your energy | Page of cups rx

You definitely feel attracted to this person emotionally and wish for progress but you may be wary around them. Your fears and doubts concerning this person put you in a guarded state. Your heart isn't completely open to the idea of being united with this person. You may have lost hope overtime, seeing that your attempts of getting closer to this person were unsuccessful. The affection is still there, the desire to care for this person is still there but you are feeling stuck and like there's nothing you can do to make a change. You may be feeling discouraged and considering moving on from the connection alltogether.

Their energy | Magician clarified by the Chariot

You may not be aware of this, but your person's position regarding this connection is completely open. Your person is gathering strength and tools to be able to manifest this connection. This is something that is going on behind the scenes. They wish to be in contact with you and are determined to catch up with you. Your person only has one wish, one goal in mind : to come back to you. They are getting impatient and will do anything in there power to come closer. For some of you, I get the message that you may be in a long distance relationship. If your person is overseas, they are planning to travel at some point in time to see you. As Magician is associated with Gemini and Chariot with Cancer, this could represent a time frame from mid may to mid August. Your person wishes to convey to you their desire to make the connection progress and find a common ground with you.

The connecting energy of your union | King of wands

The energy surrounding your connection and your union is one of passion and determination. No matter the obstacles and issues you may be facing, you are both adamant on making it work one way or another. You may not be aware of each other's intentions and actions to reach such goal, as there may be communication issues, but both of you are really in a similar dynamic of trying to meet the other in the middle. Both of you are aware of the attraction going on. Both of you are fantasizing about one another and imagining a future together. Both of you wish to conquer the other and come out of this situation victorious. You may be united with this person through a common passion or project. Again, Summer seems to be significant here. You could be travelling when you meet each other again.

The steps you should take | King of pentacles

To increase your chances of manifesting union, you are advised to work on your stability and grounding. Focus on your career, your home, your personal goals. Become a version of yourself that you can be proud of. Increase your level of independance and work on your foundations so that this person's absence does not set you off balance. Cultivate your sense of self, your self confidence, your self love. If you were dealing with health issues, work on those as well. It is important that your energy is as stable as possible for you to lead a fruitful and abundant life in general, and for you to create a healthy dynamic with this person within the connection you share.

The steps they should take | High Priestess

This person has to work in the shadows and on their shadows. They are not meant to be in contact with you as they do so. They are pushed to meet the unknown, the parts of them that may scare them. They are encouraged by spirit to hone their intuition and actually listen to it instead of running away from it. Out of sight but never out of mind, for both of your highest good, this person is forced by spirit to remain undercover and in silence. Within the silence, great knowledge will come to them. This person needs to gain clarity on their own limits and desires to be able to come back to this connection as a more mature and enlightened being. They have to defeat the inner saboteur, the little voice that urges them to push people away or to control everything. Once they overcome their fears and become a better version of themselves, they can come back to where you left off as a renewed person and contribute to a healthier dynamic as well.

Group 3 - Maleficient

Overall energy is the High Priestess. Before I dive into the meaning of this card, I want to mention that I barely had to shuffle your cards in order to get the answers to your reading. Which means that the energy is very swift, potent between you and this person. That could also tell us that the manifestation of a union with them may be closer than you think. Now I also had to say that I ended up doing your reading first because of this swift energy going on. So that may be further confirmation that this is happening soon. The High Priestess is an energy of secrecy and introspection. This tells us that you may not be in contact with this person as of now, at least in the 3D. But on a spiritual level, in the 5D, you may be picking up on this person's energy and receiving a lot of signs from them. This may also be a sign that you and your person are very spiritual and connected. Both of you could have psychic abilities and use forms of divination as a mean to understand the dynamic of your connection. This could also be a sign that your connection with this person is something that both of you keep hidden. You and/or this person may have significant Scorpio placements in your chart as well as Taurus placements.

Your energy | 9 of cups

When it comes to this person and your connection with them, you are very dreamy and optimistic. You spend a lot of time daydreaming, wishfully thinking about this connection and doing your best to manifest it into your reality. You may be praying for this person to contact you again and be close to you. You may be practicing meditation, listening to subliminals, trying to contact them through their dreams. For some of you, maybe you subconsciously tug on this person's energy and vice versa. You could be lucid dreaming about this person. You are deeply emotionally invested and a lot of your energy is spent on nurturing this connection, thinking about this person and wishing for them. Your energy is rather passive and feminine. Though you long for this person, you may not be actively/directly trying to contact them as you may be afraid of rejection.

Their energy | 3 of cups

This person seems to be in some kind of an avoidant energy. Now, it is important to point out that they do not feel disinterested when it comes to you. They feel a certain amount of tenderness and affection for you, friendliness and joy. They could be feeling giddy and excited whenever your name is mentioned and thoughts of you ellicit a sense of peace and exhilaration, especially if you used to share a lot of time with them. They may be reminiscing on the times they spent with you and the memories you shared. If this person is interested, they approach this connection from a rather laid back angle. In other terms, they may be more casual and less emotionally invested as you are. They may not be expecting the same things as you when it comes to this connection, or at least not now. They may be partying a lot and interacting with many other people, whether platonically or romantically, in an attempt to distract themselves from the connection. This could be a person that was already involved in another connection prior to your meeting.

The connecting energy | 3 of wands clarified by the Star

If both of you have a very different approach in this situation and maybe hope for different outcomes, both of you unite in the feeling of being excited about one another and very attracted to each other. Both of you look at this connection with a positive mindset, one of wanting to explore the connection further and anticipate the future when it comes to it. Both of you could be wanting to reconnect and close the distance, maybe to travel together as a way of deepening your bond and getting to know each other. The connecting energy is one of pleasure, playfulness, chemistry, optimism, curiosity and expectancy. This energy of union could start online before it is taken on a physical level. You could thus be flirting with this person through social media for a while. You will know union is happening when you or this person decides to come towards you in the 3D. So after a period of exchange online, which may last for a short period of time, they could ask you out on a physical date. If we look for time frames, wands can symbolize weeks. So a time frame of 3 weeks could be significant. With the Star card, Aquarius season may also be relevant (mid December to mid January).

Steps you should take | knight of wands

To enhance your chances of manifesting union, you are encouraged to cultivate a light hearted atmosphere within the connection. Being optimistic is more than welcome but you are advised to keep some distance as to not become too dependant on the outcome. Spirit encourages you to be playful, sensual, communicative. Don't take this too seriously and let yourself be surprised. Approach this connection with spontaneity, curiosity, fun. Play with the dynamic, engage in banter, tease them, make fun of them. Use humor as a way to deepen the intimacy. Share with them things that you are passionate about. Bond over similar passions. Use games as a way to losen up tensions. You can offer to meet them in a familiar, playful, friendly environment. Show your sociability. Enhance your attraction by emphasizing your appearance or skills that you are confident about. You get it, your seduction tactics must be on point. They gotta see you shining and feeling yourself.

Steps they should take | Ace of swords clarified by the 9 of pentacles

This person has to be more direct and communicative. They have to make a clear statement about how they feel towards you, where they're at in their life and what they expect of this connection. Their intentions have to be clear. So they need to do introspective work and improve their communication skills. They should clearly tell you that they are single and available if and when that is their case. They should gather information about you and get to know you on a personal level in order to evaluate what you mean to them and where they want to take this connection. This person needs to be more proactive and also show their trustworthiness. They have to step up to the plate and also put forward their best qualities. Namely the fact that they are mature enough to invest in this connection and support it, that they are well off financially and independant, that they are very generous and caring, as well as their hardworking personality. Among other things. This person needs to be clear on what they are willing to bring to the table and provide in order for this connection to work out.

[jesteriajunovix]

I really love this post.

Talking about the implicit harms and toxicity within this Era of Internet Fandom fucking bangs.

There are so many layers of non-indulgence on the part of fans that create this "death of the author" bubble where the themes are melted into the shape of varying crude enigmatic desires.

It's very bizarre the scale of how much of it potentially isn't just ignorance, but a choice to ignore implication too. A very harmful thought that seems to be able to come from all forms of identities & fandom is the idea "I need this".

I need them to be gay, (Fujo Territory, and Toxic BL or GL)

I need them to be white, (White)

I need them to be in pain,

(sensationalized feeling externalized via the art of a character without thought of the contextual reality of what the art may represent to others. [Drawing young characters being bloodied, centering ones venting around depicting a character of another race being tormented, or further brutalizing a character tastelessly.]

and so on.

This idea of needing these characters in these ways and these ways showing themselves to be in demand for a fair share of a fandom's population genuinely is several studies and conversations to be had.

I say this with the intention of not coming off as pessimistic, but I do wonder if there will ever be a time when mediums, and media placed in this category of digital entertainment will be something communally more mature on a broader scale as the people who care about what other generations have deemed as "time wasting" art become more important in facilitating the safe spaces and environments in which this art is discussed and held.

Digital Communal Responsibility. Stronger Social Contracts.

There are so many social issues to worry about before we can really even consider getting there, but I have hope in my heart we will somehow.

It's too easy to ignore the task of actually indulging the meaning of art. Such a growing form of stagnation is so dangerous.

------------------------------------------------------------

Thematic Questions

do you know what your reaction to the media you consume means within the reality of your identity as it intersects with others?

Where do you think an artist's artistic intent comes from?

did it come from a healthy or unhealthy place?

how might your headcanon relatively align or contradict the health state of their art?

does your headcanon come from a healthy or unhealthy place?

Is the way you indulge art amongst fandom and community healthy?

how & why?

This isn't a "put a shirt on" thing. Do your conclusions feel right to you? I can only ask that you explore that for yourself as your ideas surrounding art grow alongside you as a person.......

again SUPER good post from zzxid. They constructed such a good point in such a good way and I appreciate people who can use words like this.

I genuinely think Mouthwashing fandom is a good example on how real life misogyny is very wired on people brains and influenced how they engage with fictional misogyny.

You have a story about a woman being assaulted and telling a man he trusted but being dismissed because he is friends with the attacker, and people fixate on shipping her with either of those me.

You have a story about how men that downplay their male friends violence, assume neutrality is the safer option, unintentionally help create an environment that's unsafe to vulnerable people, at a risk becoming a victim themselves. And people make it about toxic yaoi.

You have a character kill herself because she didn't want birth the child of her abuser. And people make AUs where she happily keep the baby.

Misogyny isn't just "I hate this women", it's also downplaying their trauma, defending those who caused it, and reducing them to mothers or wives against their wished under this idea of what womanhood is about.

I don't think we can separate fandom misogyny from it's real world influence, not yet.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

request for a logan x reader where logan comforts the reader after they come home from a mission all bloodied up? i see a lot of reader comforting logan fics but im curious to see how itd be the other way round :)

me? responding to a request like three weeks later? it's more likely than you think. also sorry it's so short. originally it turned into smut but i didn't know if you'd want that given the request was for hurt/comfort. (if you guys want i can publish the alternate smut version of this fic too).

solace

summary: you come home from a mission gone wrong and logan helps you through it.

warnings: death (offscreen), blood, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, reader has hair, pet names (logan canonically calls his love interests "darlin'" and this is me pushing that agenda), english is not my first language so please do not be rude

word count: 1004

you’re splattered in blood and grime, grey ash streaking your skin from the fire created by a little boy lashing out at the world. he had set his own house on fire, his parents dying in the most brutal of ways, burned alive.

“oh princess, c’mere,” logan pulls you into his arms. you’re in too much shock to argue, letting him manoeuvre you like a doll.

you don’t like going on missions, don’t like hurting people. you’re only ever sent on the easy ones, the non-violent ones, where you try to convince mutant kids to join the school. you’re good at talking to children, at getting them to admit their fears to you, at soothing their worries. but even the easy missions don’t always go well.

charles could sense that this particular child was powerful, and far worse than that, he was angry. he’d lashed out when he’d seen you, screamed in anger when his parents expressed a desire for him to go to xavier’s school, to learn to control himself before he came back home again. his parents were frightened too, scared of what might happen if things continued the way they were.

they’d all died in the explosion of his power.

he was so scared. he never meant to hurt anyone, you could see it in his eyes when the fire continued to burn despite him letting go. it was out of control, no longer a part of him that he could control like an extra limb, but something with a mind of its own.

it reminds you of yourself when you’d first discovered your abilities, scared and alienated from the rest of the world, from the non-mutants around you. you see yourself in every kid you save, and in every kid you lose.

you stay in logan’s arms for a long while, the only sound in the room his steady breathing contrasting with your ragged, choked out sobs. his chest rises steadily against yours, a rhythm that you try to imitate but you can’t, and with every failed inhale you feel your frustration grow, your panic increase.

he picks you up easily, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clutching onto him so as not to fall. he would never drop you, you know that, but it’s always a slight surprise when you’re not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

he leads you to the bathroom where he helps you strip out of your clothes, so gentle with your shaking form. his hands trace each new sliver of skin revealed to him, keeping a firm pressure on you always, grounding you, reminding you of where you are. not in a burning house watching a child’s corpse go pitch black from the flames, but in the house that logan bought the two of you, not too far from the school but enough to give the two of you privacy.

in the shower, the blood rinses off your skin, pink rivulets swirling down the drain. yet you can still feel it, thick and sticky and warm. you want to scrub at your skin until its red and blistering, until you have to grow a new layer of skin, a fresh one that hasn’t been touched by death.

logan doesn’t let you. he catches your hand and whispers, “let me take care of you, darlin’.”

you lean into his bare chest and he massages shampoo into the roots of your hair, over your scalp until it foams, and then rinses it away. he runs your conditioner - the one he always claims is too expensive and why would you spend so much on hair products - through your hair, tugging gently at the strands when he notices you disappearing into your mind.

afterwards he pats you dry, and kisses every inch of your skin, reverent, on his knees before you. and then he rises to his feet and finally presses his lips to yours, soft and intimate, not rushed or heated, just reassurance that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going anywhere.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually.

you shake your head, “he was just a kid.”

“i know,” logan says, rubbing his large, rough hands over your arms, up and down, “but it’s not your fault, you know that. you can’t control what other people do. d’you blame storm for what happened?”

“no!” you exclaim, eyes wide at the implication that one of your best friends could have caused the boys death.

“but she was on the mission with you,” logan comments, and you shake your head, “if you don’t blame her, you can’t blame yourself. neither of you knew, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“maybe,” you say. you don’t really believe it, but logan knows it’ll take you time to get back to your usual happy self, and he’s fine with staying by your side, whispering praise and reassurance until you start to believe him again.

afterwards, he puts on your favourite movie. he spends the whole time making fun of the characters and their decisions, grumbling about how movies will base their entire plot progression on actions no real, rational person would ever do, until you giggle wetly and slap him in the arm, telling him to shut up and let you watch the film.

you lean back into the circle of his arms and he holds you tight, occasionally wiping stray tears that run down your cheeks. there’s less tension in your muscles now, but you’re not quite relaxed, so he shuffles the two of you around until he can massage your shoulders and back.

you moan at the feeling, sinking into the sensation of his large hands working at the knots, until you’re putty for him. you feel warm and fuzzy by the time his hands start to stray down, massaging your thighs.

“feelin’ better?” he asks as the end credits roll, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you sigh, “thank you for taking care of me.”

[passengerprincessblog]

“A Little Attention” ~ Lando Norris x reader short

WARNING: smut, NSFW, lowkey fluff

Summary: Y/N is totally focused on her project, but Lando isn’t having it—he aches for her attention, willing to do anything to pull her away from the endless photos and glitter. When he wraps his arms around her and presses a soft kiss to her neck, all her resolve begins to melt.

I hear the door creak open, followed by a familiar groan echoing through the apartment. Lando’s home. Without looking up, I smirk, focusing on the photo in my hand, carefully cutting it to fit perfectly into the page.

I hear his heavy footsteps padding across the hardwood floors as he walks toward the kitchen table where I’m hunched over, sorting through piles of photos, glitter, and little scraps of decorative paper. The moment he stops right next to me, his shadow looms over my project. I know he’s watching, but I keep my attention fixed on the paper, trying not to laugh.

“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice casual, as if I haven’t noticed his obvious attempt to make his presence known.

“Oh yeah… totally,” he says, dripping with sarcasm.

I can feel his stare burning into me, but I don’t take the bait, pretending to be fully absorbed in my best friend’s scrapbook. This only seems to fuel his irritation.

“You know…” he says, his tone laced with the tiniest bit of irritation, “you could… maybe fix that piece there.”

I finally glance up, raising an eyebrow as I see him pointing to a tiny, tattered corner on one of the photos. I smile, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Good eye,” I say sincerely, like I’m actually considering his feedback.

He huffs, louder this time, clearly annoyed that his “constructive criticism” has only been met with politeness. I hold back a laugh as I glue down the next piece.

“Put the photo down, Y/N…” he whines, drawing out each word like a little kid. “My whole body hurts, and here you are… ignoring your boyfriend.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I set down the scissors and turn to face him, my expression one of pure confusion. “Lando, baby, I have to finish this tonight. You know that.”

But he’s not having it. He lets out another exaggerated groan, stepping closer and leaning down to wrap his arms around me from behind. His face is dangerously close to my neck, and I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

“Please, take care of your baby…” he says in that adorable pleading voice, the one he knows I’m weak to. He punctuates it with a soft kiss on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Lando…” I try to sound annoyed, but my resolve is already cracking. “Come on, I’m so close to finishing.”

“No,” he murmurs against my skin, “I’m taking this away…” He reaches down, gently tugging the piece of paper out of my hand and placing it aside, like he’s grounding me from my project.

“Lando!” I protest, but he’s already smirking, tugging me up from my chair and into his arms. I can’t help but laugh as he presses his forehead to mine, a playful glint in his eye.

“Yes,” he says, his voice low and teasing. His cheeks are flushed, and there’s that mischievous smile tugging at his lips. Before I can argue again, he pulls me closer, his hand finding the back of my neck as he leans down to kiss me.

I melt into him, finally surrendering, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him steal my attention – just like he wanted. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me even closer, and suddenly, I can’t remember what I was even working on.

I let out a soft gasp as Lando drags me into the bedroom, his hands already working to undress me. "Lando..." I breathe, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes. His own gaze is intense, filled with a desperate need for me.

"I need you, baby," he growls, pushing me down onto the bed. His fingers make quick work of my clothes, tugging them off and tossing them aside carelessly. I'm left bare beneath him, my skin already flushed with desire.

"Please..." I whimper, reaching for him. He answers by pressing his lips to mine in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth possessively. I moan into the kiss, arching up against him, craving his touch.

His hands roam over my body, caressing every curve and dip. When his fingers find my aching center, I cry out, bucking my hips into his touch. "So wet for me already," he praises, sliding a finger inside me. I clench around him, desperate for more.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out, curling them just right to make me see stars. "Lando, please..." I beg, my hands fisting in the sheets. He answers by leaning down, capturing one of my nipples between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to ride the line between pleasure and pain.

"You feel so good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "I can't wait anymore, I need to be inside you." With his fingers still buried deep, he reaches down, freeing his aching cock from the confines of his pants.

He positions himself at my entrance, teasing me with the head of his dick. I'm practically vibrating with need, desperate to feel him inside me. With a single thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, filling me completely.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he moans, starting up a steady rhythm. Each snap of his hips drives me higher, the pleasure building inside me. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper, harder.

Our bodies move together in perfect sync, lost in the heat of the moment. With each thrust, I can feel my legs twitch.

His fingers find my clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. "That's it, baby, let me make you feel good," he coos, his voice dripping with adoration. "You're so perfect, so responsive. I love watching you come undone for me."

I can only moan in response, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. His cock pistoning in and out of me, hitting all the right spots, combined with the relentless stimulation of my clit, is almost too much to bear. "Lando, I... I can't..." I whimper, my body tensing as I teeter on the edge.

"You can and you will," he commands, his grip on my hips tightening. "Come for me, baby. Let go. I've got you." His words, combined with the intensity of his thrusts, send me flying over the edge.

My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my inner walls clamping down around his cock. "Yes, just like that," he groans, continuing to thrust through my climax, prolonging the intense waves of pleasure. "So beautiful when you let go."

I'm boneless beneath him, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. But he's not done with me yet. He flips me over onto my stomach, pulling my hips up as he enters me from behind. "I love you so much," he murmurs, peppering my back with soft kisses, a stark contrast to the roughness of his thrusts.

His hands roam over my body, squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. "You're mine," he growls possessively, his hips snapping harder, faster. "All mine."

I can only nod, too lost in the sensation to form words. He's everywhere, surrounding me, consuming me. I've never felt so owned, so cherished.

"Again," he demands, his fingers finding my clit once more. "Come for me again, baby." His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, send me hurtling towards another peak.

This time, when I fall, it's with a scream of his name.

My body spasms with another intense orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over me as Lando's skilled fingers work my clit through the aftershocks. "Lando!" I cry out, shocked at how easily he can bring me to the brink.

"That's it, baby, let it all out," he praises, his voice rough with his own impending release. "You're so responsive, so perfect."

Each thrust of his hips grows more erratic, more desperate. I can feel him throbbing inside me, ready to explode.

The added stimulation sends me flying once more, my inner walls clenching around him like a vice. "Fuck, I'm gonna..." he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. With one final snap of his hips, he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing as he fills me with his hot cum.

We collapse together onto the bed, both panting and spent. He rolls us onto our sides, still buried deep inside me, unwilling to separate our joined bodies. "That was incredible," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to my shoulder. "You're amazing."

I can only nod, too blissed out to form words. I've never experienced anything like that before, never been able to cum so easily, so intensely. And the fact that he came too, filling me with his essence, makes it all the more special.

We lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow, our bodies entwined. When he finally slips out of me, I feel a twinge of loss, but the warmth of his embrace more than makes up for it.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too," I reply, tangling my fingers in his hair. "More than anything."

————————————

Forgive me for anything that doesn’t make sense or typos. I didn’t get to review this well.

Please like and follow! It means a lot!

[kayla360]

Fun fact this in itself comes from a deeper form of sexism and misogyny. My theory on why trans man tends to more accepted then trans-women beside the obvious « trans woman are a danger to cis women bs🙄 » is that its not ok because of the feminine aspect of it.

Like it’s the fact transphobia as well as queer phobia In general comes from the integrent perspective of the : Why do you want to be like a woman.

When man or trans-woman start showing appreciation or participate in things that are traditionally for women there’s this clash from all sides including a lot of feminist activism that goes the « but why do you want to be associate with XYZ bad stereotype for women ?? ».

This all comes from the second wave of feminism where when woman started to work. To be taken seriously they had to act like a man, so leaving a lot of the traditional feminine things behind. It is also important to point out that many woman who didn’t want to leave those traditional feminine things behind were often the worst when it came to being against the movement so even more I forcing the disdain that feminist at that time had for those feminine tradition. One of my grandma despise cooking because of this. To be able to be treated with basic right they had to act like men’s. This deeply shape our society perspective.

So when gay man act too queer. Or when a fem Lesbien isn’t as welcome or a bi-woman dates a man all of those hates stem from this.

You can see this in the reverse too how butch lesbien are what the lesbiens community is know for or when a trans-man or non-binary AFAB will be less targeted then their counterparts AMAB or trans-woman.

Because being perceived as man is and was always more desirable even from the rest of the community. That for a lot of feminist activism that are older that went through the second wave or was raised very closely to it being feminine means being against the movement.

So yeah here is my little analysis on how a lot of queer hates comes from the patriarchy system we all are forced to live on.

Idk I just have no patience for trans men/masculine people who refuse to acknowledge transmisogyny. Like. The worst experience I ever had with transphobia was when I was mistaken for a trans women. In a culinary program, I was cutting bell peppers, and one of the other students, a really big dude in a student leadership position, walks in and accusatory goes "so are you trying to be a woman, or something?" And I'm like. Well I'm trying to small dice these peppers. And I tell him I'm not a she and he says something to the effect of "Yeah I know that much." He makes some comment abt how whatever I'm doing doesn't make sense and he doesn't get it and when I tell him he doesn't have to, that he just has to respect it, he says "I don't have to do shit!" And gets real mad! Like actual threats mad! Tells me he could bash my skull in and to meet him outside for a fight and yeah it was fucking scary! The entire interaction I'm reminding myself that I'm the one currently holding a knife, if he tries anything.

Fast forward a few days later and my period is kicking my ass. Just absolutely destroying me. I'm in the dish pit, and I am visibly struggling, I'm nauseous, I'm in pain and bracing myself against walls. I'm not walking straight. And the same student leadership guy who was so aggressive with me when he thought I was transfem?

He tells me I look like I'm going to pass out. He says it's obvious I'm in pain, I shouldn't be in class, I can go sit down and if nobody can replace me he'll do the dishes himself.

Like. Do you get it yet. It's not just that he felt comfortable openly threatening me in a room full of other people when he thought I was a trans woman. It's that he did a complete 180 and was not only willing to support me, but actually pick up my slack once he knew I wasn't "that kind" of transgender. As soon as one of our classmates confirmed to him that I wasn't the wrong type of trans person I suddenly became someone who actually deserved care and compassion in his eyes. The "bigots think we're all the same and hate all of is equally" rhetoric isn't fucking true. It's just peddled to deny the privilege we have over other members of our community so it's easier to ignore how inhospitable supposedly trans-centric spaces are for TMA people.

[luvvyouforever]

i am my father's daughter - declan o'hara x rupert's daughter!reader

synopsis: you knew you shouldn't be doing this, flirting with your dad's friend and business partner. but he's so irresistible!

content: age gap relationship (ages not specified), maud doesn't exist au, not very canon compliant just ignore it, nsfw themes, dbf trope, accidental tense switching (ignore it)

author's note: declan is sooooo hunky #needthat also this is a rather short piece but if you'd like to see a continuation of dbf declan, i would absolutely provide <3

you're quite positive that nobody has looked as good in a t-shirt as declan o'hara does now in the front of the priory's living room, leading an open discussion about what is next for the budding production company. his biceps flex underneath the thin material when he lifts his arm in a gesture and despite your efforts to remain focused on the conversation at hand, it's difficult when all you've been able to think about since he moved in is declan.

for a month or two after he and his two daughters moved in, he had been the sole object of your daydreaming. he was so strong, so intelligent, so witty on the television, so...everything.

however, there was little that you could do on that front, considering the last name that appears on your birth certificate and the fact that rupert campbell-black, your father, and declan hated each other. it was a rather difficult watch, the night declan interviewed him, but with rupert bonding with declan over their love for their small families, it became much easier to slink your way into his presence. thankfully.

then, it became regular to see declan in your home, or to see you and rupert in his. he was hard to depart from, what with his deep, thick accented voice and his wavy hair he kept running his hands through, and that t-shirt, that damn t-shirt. you lived in pure, unending agony for a while, having to be so close to him all the time without being able to give in to this torturous desire.

but then he started blatantly running a large hand over your back as he passed behind you and then he started making eye contact with you across the room and then he helped you with car troubles where he stood tantalizingly close behind you while showing you how to check your oil.

your father doesn't need to know that you've kissed and made out with and sucked off his friend and business partner. right?

when declan finishes his speech in the front of the living room, he makes his way through the crowd to the table in the back with a few drinks and refreshments laid out by taggie where you just so happen to be standing.

his eye contact with you is unwavering as he comes closer and closer to you and there's a smirk growing on his lips.

"could you be any more obvious with your ogling there, dear?" he says quietly once he reaches your side.

you scoff, but you know what he's saying is true. "i wasn't doing anything of the sort, mr o'hara. i'm just admiring your leadership and passion for venturer, is all," you whisper.

he leans against the table, then, watching as the crowd before him mingle with each other, completely oblivious to the conversation happening between you and him. even your father seems to be swept up into conversation on the other side of the room. he turns his neck side-to-side, clearly aware of the way that his shoulders and back tense underneath the tight shirt. your eyes betray your previous statement as they immediately flick to the sight, then flick downwards.

he chuckles and takes the smallest of steps closer to you. "so you like the shirt, then, i take it?"

a small blush overtakes your cheeks and you refuse to meet his eye. suddenly, you feel his body tilt towards yours, lips just before your ear.

"i can let you take it off me if you come over tonight."

his deep voice reverberated through your body, sending chills down your neck and spine. subconsciously, your back arched from the table you were learning on and he let out another laugh.

a few hours later, you found yourself slipping quietly out of penscombe, positively giddy. the walk to the priory was one you had done plenty of times and you knew it like the back of your hand, really. slowly, the centuries old building came into view and several feet up the wall was a window with its lights still on. declan's.

as he'd done before, he met you at the back door of the home, one that leads into the kitchen, a smug look on his face.

"you took my offer quite readily," he said. his big frame leaned against the door and he crossed his arms. still adorning him was that damn t-shirt.

"as if you weren't kicking your feet waiting for me," you retort, then come to stand before him.

he shakes his head then and a sly smile tilts the corners of his mouth up. he removes his body from the frame and steps to the side to let you inside. as you pass him, a firm hand comes down on your ass, making a small yelp escape your lips.

you turn suddenly and shoot him a glare. he just pats you again, a gesture to keep you moving forward. "get on up there, little minx. before your daddy realizes where you've gone, huh?"

you turn then and head for the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. declan didn't have to tell you much twice.

[socksracoon10]

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭�� 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦… 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵. Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: Alright gang, I caved like I said I would, here's my first f1 fic lmao

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤�� 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"You had a pretty nasty crash with (Y/N) (L/N) during qualifying today, do you have any words to share about the collision?" A reporter had asked Carlos, bringing the microphone closer to his lips. Boy did he have words, a very strong choice of them that he desperately wanted to spew out on national television. He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes focusing in on the said driver just a few feet from where he stood. She was most likely giving her side of the story to the press, and it boiled his blood. He wanted to be nice, he wanted to be supportive. He liked to welcome everyone into the sport, make them feel like they belonged. Yet all his efforts to try and be the better person went down the drain as soon as she had rammed into him on track. That was his final straw. If it wasn't for the fact that she had been getting much more cocky during interviews, talking about how Carlos was an easy opponent and was practically no competition to her, he would've let this crash slide. His eyes drifted back to the patient reporter and he shook his head,

"I don't uh... want to talk about it. It happened, let's leave it at that." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The reporter furrowed his brows, a doubtful pout on his lips as he tilted his head,

"Interesting you say that. (L/N) had a lot more to say."

"Oh, did she now?" Carlos raised an eyebrow; he couldn't help the way his body turned to completely face the reporter, his curiosity taking over him. He wanted to know what that idiot must've said to the press.

"She said, and I quote, 'Even if you give Carlos a million practices, he'll still fumble the bag like he did today...' what are your thoughts, Carlos?"

Carlos gaped at the reporter, his mind reeling with at least a thousand different responses, each of them having to deal with the fact that he was racing against an absolute asshole but he shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He knew his words would have weight, and he figured he might as well let her have fun for the time being. Let her have that confidence boost that she desired so strongly.

"Well, we'll see how it plays out during the race." Carlos snapped, forcing a thin smile before heading out of the press pen. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles was having a wonderful weekend. Had P1 in all the practice sessions, got pole for qualifying and he was set to the win the race. He was so happy and hopeful, he knew that after a long while he was going to taste victory. Carlos had draped his arm over Charles's shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before exclaiming, "You're going to win tomorrow, I can feel it."

And then in came (Y/N) (L/N) like the absolute hurricane that she was, bopping her head to whatever stupid song was playing in her headphones. She glanced over to him, taking off one side of her headphones before scanning him from head to toe,

"You think I'd look good in red?" She asked, her head still moving side to side as she hummed with the song. Charles didn't understand it at first, and he frowned before it eventually clicked in his head,

"You'll never be in Ferrari," He scoffed, and she snorted,

"We'll see about that."

And see he did when he saw her coming up right behind him, ready to overtake him on the turn coming up, only to lose her grip and crash into him. As both cars spun towards the barriers, it wasn't hard to miss the way Charles began to scream over the radio, his voice hoarse and dry from the fact that all his hopes were diminished within seconds. He scrambled out of his bottled car and headed towards (L/N) who was looking over at her own car's damage. "You fool! You moron! What were you doing?" Charles roared, and she turned around with an exasperated sigh, "Trying to overtake you, and then I lost grip." She crossed her arms, and Charles clenched his fists, taking another step towards her, "You leave space! Leave space! I literally-" "Oh, quit whining. What's done is done, you can't be wallowing over it," She scoffed and as Charles was just about ready to shove her onto the ground, some of the marshals jogged over to break up the fight.

"You're lucky I didn't break your face," Charles spat, feeling the marshals drag him away. He glanced over his shoulder to see (L/N) mirroring his glare. He watched her lips twist into a scowl before she was taken out of his sight.

"We're sorry about that crash, Charles," A reporter sighed, shaking her head as she gave him a look of sympathy.

"I'm sorry for (L/N) for the next few races," Charles bit back, knowing that he was going to give it his all during the next race. 𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

A championship battle would've been much easier to win over an argument with (Y/N) (L/N). Max had figured that out the hard way. He had the fastest lap and was just about ready to overtake (L/N) when she had suddenly divebombed randomly into him, forcing him into the barriers. Max was beyond just pissed, he was fuming. He had never felt such strong rage in a very long time, and as he hopped out of his car with the help of the marshals, he knew he was about to start a war back at the garage. He had dropped his gloves onto the floor, shoved the helmet onto the ground before ripping off his balaclava with one intention in his mind: sort out whatever bullshit (L/N) kept bringing into these races. She was only 6th in the driver standings, but she sure acted like she was 2nd and that only did little to calm Max's anger. He had marched over to her team's garage much to the chagrin of those with him at Red Bull Racing.

"So, are we letting blind people race now?" Max barked, and he watched (L/N) crane her neck to get a good look at the man approaching her. She stood her ground, crossing her arms with that cocky look on her face. It drove Max wild looking at her, he hated her guts.

"Listen, it just happens. My bad," She put her hands in the air, taking a step back as she noticed Max losing his mind.

"Just happens? Just... happens? Seriously? Are you fucking stupid? That shouldn't be happening! I have a championship to win and you just ruined it for me!" "Hey, I DNF'd too. We're both in the same boat," (L/N) exclaimed.

"I'm fighting for the championship, you're fighting to secure your seat for the next season because you are nothing but shit!" Max hissed which earned a couple gasps from those at the garage. Within seconds he was dragged back to Red Bull Racing's garage, but he couldn't help but notice the smirk on her face. A part of him wondered if she did it on purpose. After all, (Y/N) (L/N) had nothing to lose at the moment so it wouldn't surprise him. He sank down onto a chair, impatiently tapping his foot as he watched the race continue without him.

He couldn't wait to wipe that smirk off her face next time.

[alexanderwales]

I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

[manchasama]

You know, historically I did most of my writing as random ficlets. Maybe that is why these are a bit easier? Either way, feeling out characterizations, these are fun to do!

--

"What are you doing?"

Ingo didn't move from where he was looking down at the brown…circles in front of him. "Baking," he said. He didn't have to look to sense Emmet's stare. "…Theoretically," he conceded with a sigh.

Emmet poked one of the circles. It dented under his finger, but bounced back into shape instantly. "It doesn't look bad," he said. He poked the circle again, fascinated at its texture.

"While that means a lot coming from you, unfortunately the taste leaves much to be desired." Ingo's frown pulled deeper. "They taste bad. I don't understand how the same ingredients can come out so wrong!"

Emmet leaned over so he could look Ingo in the face. His smile had a hint of teasing humor in it. "It looks like you tried to bake donuts?"

Ingo wasn't listening. "I have looked at dozens of recipes! I measured everything exactly so." He gestured ferociously toward the pile of used dishes soaking in the sink. "Baking is supposed to be easy." He threw his hands up, exasperation written in every line of his body. "You merely need to follow the directions, with the exact measurements. I thought I could do this!"

"Hmmmmm," Emmet drawled, looking entirely unsympathetic. "Why did you bake them? Aren't donuts fried?"

Ingo grimaced, half turned away as if that would save him from his brother's attention. "…I merely wanted it to be a bit…healthier."

"Uh huh," Emmet said. "And how may donuts have you snuck behind my back this week?"

"That is NOT why I did it!" Ingo protested loudly.

Emmet cackled, covering his ears dramatically from the sudden volume. "That is a confession if ever I heard one!"

All Ingo could do was splutter protests that fell on deaf ears. Emmet was far too delighted in catching Ingo out on his sweet tooth. Why were younger brothers so infuriating?

"If you are quite finished," Ingo said stiffly, "I have to clean up this mess." Emmet's smile still reached from ear to ear, his face rosy from his laughter. He reached out to poke one of the donuts again, and Ingo swatted at his hand. "Stop that! I need to wrap them properly, and I don't need your fingerprints all over them."

"Wrap them?" Emmet asked, eyeing Ingo as he picked up the plate of pastries. "Ingo, you are not planning on eating those?"

"Of course I am," Ingo sighed. "Just because they aren't ideal, doesn't mean I should waste food."

"Oh no you don't." Emmet swiped the plate of 'donuts' from Ingo's hand. "This is now a treat for Garbador!"

"But—" Ingo tried to protest.

"Nope!" Emmet popped the word in his mouth. "You can learn from your mistake. You do not need to force yourself to suffer because of it."

"Emmet…" Ingo would deny to his dying day the whine in his voice. "All I have learned is that donuts should not be baked!"

Emmet gave a satisfied nod. "And that is a valuable lesson."

They stared at each other silently. Then Ingo lunged, and Emmet turned and fled out the kitchen before Ingo could catch him.

"Emmet!" Ingo bellowed, charging recklessly after his brother.

"Garbador! I have a treat! Quick!" Emmet hollered, thumping against the walls as he took corners at speed. The real miracle of the day was the fact that he kept all of the donuts on the plate. At least until Ingo tackled him and the whole thing went tumbling across the floor.

Garbador did indeed enjoy her treat.

[phantom-rats]

Ok, so- (said with intent to infodump)

Teruteru is such a performance of a person. I think a pretty integral part of his character is his tendency to self-aggrandize, if not outright lie about his upbringing and accomplishments. I often wonder if he’s actually ashamed of his background at all, or if he just knows that a certain subsection of people would think less of him for it. Because, at the moment, it seems they only want him around when he’s providing something for them… Food, primarily. And I think he would tell himself that he’s content with that, with embodying this persona and proving himself through his talent, but his desperate bids for attention through his weird and creepy behavior would say otherwise. He’s fun to dissect, because how much of what we’re seeing is really him? What would you find if you managed to get past that?

His arc in the simulation, short as it is, is very fascinating to me. Primarily because I don’t think Teruteru is stupid. He’s in such deep denial, from the very beginning, and the paranoia he’s doing a piss poor job of pushing down eventually bubbles over until he can’t take it anymore. But maybe if he didn’t feel the need to hide so much of himself, including his completely understandable levels of terror and concern for his mother, he wouldn’t have needed to do what he did… I wonder if he could’ve been talked down, if only he wasn’t so deathly afraid of emotional vulnerability… But then again, I do think he was genuinely looking for a way to get back home to his mom, no matter the cost. 

His mom seems to be the only person he truly allows himself to be genuine with… And, in some ways, the only person he seems to really deeply care for. His dad left him and he openly dislikes his siblings. I don’t think he has any friends and his classmates don’t seem to care for him too much (in canon, at the start, at least). It adds a whole layer of tragedy to his story both in the simulation and during his time as a Remnant, given that he… Well, he very likely killed her himself, if not cooked and ate her too. I really adore this part in his FTEs where he’s asked what his dream is, he gets so confused and just throws out some random answer that he thinks aligns with his persona (“My real dream is-! Having a cute, sommelier wife… maybe…?”). I think the culmination of his FTEs and arc in general is that, in the end, he wanted to make his Mom smile, and I think this desire extends to others too. But he wraps it up in so many layers of grandiosity and bullshit that it can easily come off as arrogant and attention-seeking. 

He wanted to make people happy, and he still does, but he’s not doing such a good job of it anymore. He hopes his cooking makes up for everything everyone hates about him, and it does, but he can’t possibly be satisfied with that. He acts like he is, because he knows it’s better than nothing. And they don’t have a choice but to keep him around. But he has to want more than that, doesn’t he? 

Sorry for the extremely long reply! As a massive Teruteru fan of several several years, I’m probably overanalyzing him a little bit- 

inauthentic

[meydang]

cute wings

(sfw)

Nameless!Sunday x Nameless!reader

Based on Sunday's ultimate animation and my own headcanons about halovian's lore.

.

.

.

"So what was that move you whip out earlier? The one with the vines and everything!" You said, clearly impressed while sitting down on one of the couch.

"Have you been hiding the other two pair of wings or do they only come out when you do that last move?" You asked eagerly when Sunday enter the parlor car, the both of you having just gotten back from your trailblazing expidition together. Your eyes following him as he joins you on the couch, with sparks of curiosity in it.

It hasn't been that long since Sunday joined the Astral express, but he could definitely say that it's been enough for him to start opening up to all the nameless and vice versa.

"Ah, are you refering to my supporting spell?" This is the case especially for you, with your seemingly endless energy and desire to learn about everything, it's only a matter of time before you start flooding him with all these question about anything that piqued your interest.

"For halovians, our wings are like a representation of our emotion and power, similar to that of our halo." Sunday pause for a moment, you guessed to try and think of an answer that will satisfy your question.

"To put it simply, take that fight we just won earlier for example, I was using my power to aid us, the wings that appeared were due to my strong emotion and use of power at the moment." He turned to look at you as you nod multiple times, trying to grasp your head around the new information like a lost puppy trying to figure out where it is.

You do that quite often - something Sunday has took notice and find endearing.

Cute, he think.

"Sooo... does that mean the wings can only come out when you are in a state like that?" You finally said after some time. "Aw pity, I was hoping you could make them appear anytime you know, I think they are really adorable!" You said what you were thinking with all honesty, completely oblivious to the fact that your last comment caught the halovian off guard and flustered to his core, hints of red dusting his cheeks.

"Th-that is not entirely correct, I can make them visible if I want to, but I'll need to be in a state of strong emotion or focus on my power in that case." Sunday tries to brush of your compliment about his wings with his answer, but before he could given it anymore thoughts, you have already came up with an idea.

Sunday jolts slightly as you prop your chin onto his shoulder, your face display a smug expression, looking up at him with your hand on top of his own.

"Wait, if I'm correct... Then I'll just have to make you feel emotions strong enough for your cute wings to come out, right?"

Huh? What did you just say? What are you planning? How did- what? There is a million things going through Sunday's head right now and the fact that your gaze are still fixed on him while this is happening does not help at all. Sunday doesn't know what is worse, the way he got insanely flustered just by a few compliments or you being extremely close to him right now.

"Well...? Aren't you gonna say anything?" He heard you said in the slowest and most teasing way possible, as if to get even more reaction from him. Before he could even answer, you stood up and move infront of him.

"Sunday." you said while bending down to face him, your hands on your knees and face tilting down at him with an adoring smile.

Huh?

"Yes?" He managed to say, his head spinning to guess what are you planning to say next.

"Although it hadn't been long since you join the express, you have been adapting and trying your best to keep up with the crew really well." Sunday can feel his cheeks burning with every sweet words uttered from your mouth. You on the other hand, are determined to get his marvelous wings to come out.

"You have done a great job as a nameless... Don't you think so too?" You continue, still looking down at him but leaned in a bit closer, too close for Sunday to maintain his composure. If he still has any, that is.

"Ah, th-thank you. That's very kind of you to say." As his wings move to cover his face, he can here an audible 'aww' coming from you which caught him by surprise. Resulting in him moving them to his side again, for a better view of what was happening.

"It worked!" Opening his eyes, Sunday sees you smiling and gushing over his wings - ah, right, his other wings that have appeared due to him being oh so flustered just by your simple remarks.

"May I touch them?" You asked, your gaze gentle, yet still intense that it makes Sunday gulp nervously as his face turn even more red.

"Yes, you may." Sunday doesn't know why he gave you permission, as if you being in such close proximity to him wasn't enough to get his heart pounding. Especially with the fact that his wings are actually pretty sensitive.

With a happy grin, you reach out to glide over the feathers with the back of your hand, not missing how doing it make Sunday shudders a bit.

"Oh, sorry!" You retrieve your hand after noticing.

"No no, it's fine... please continue." He assured, not wanting you to feel bad. Even if he doesn't exactly want you to keep thumbing his wings like this... purely because it's making him all embarrassed and a blushing mess.

"You know... what I said earlier about you joining the express. I wasn't just teasing you, I actually meant it." You reach out for his wings again, this time with a soft smile, making sure he knows you are being sincere.

Sunday made a dumbfounded expression, or atleast you think he is, his face shows a mix of gratitude and confusion as he stare at you.

"I am grateful that you hold me on such high regards, though... I do not believe I have made any significant contribution to the express, more less better than all of you." Sunday answered truthfully. How could you say all these good things about him when he doesn't deserve any of it? How are you still able to welcome him with open arm? After all his mistakes, after the grand pursuit of a dream paradise through such manipulative methods, and-

"Sunday!"

He blinked,

Once,

Twice,

"Hey, are you okay? You just zoned out for a moment." You move your hands from his wings to his shoulder, sitting down next to him again, tone worried.

"Sorry... I was just deep in thought. Were you saying something?" He quickly apologized, feeling bad for making you worried. Yet again another reason he doesn't deserve your praises, Sunday blames himself.

"I said stop thinking bad about yourself. Don't ever say anything like that... nobody is perfect, everyone has their own flaws and values. You just have to not let your doubts get to you." You turned Sunday towards your direction a bit, so that he's looking at you in the eyes.

"Hm, promise me you'll never think negatively about yourself again." You said firmly, waiting for him.

"I-I promise." With an exhale Sunday replied to you, smilling. "Thank you."

You smile back "There we go, now that's my little angle~"

!?

This is the second time you have caught him off guard in this conversation. Little angle? At this point he swear you will be the death of him eventually, Sunday think as you suddenly lit up.

"Well, let's lighten things up a bit..." you said, pulling out your phone. "Say cheeseeee" what are y-

Snap

Just like that, a picture of Sunday smilling sheepishly and flapping his wings was sent to the astral express family group chat. Earning you a panic, embarrassed Sunday and the multiple 'aww's from the trailblazer and March.

_

The Astral Express Family

You: (picture)

You: I found a happy bird on the express today~

March: aww

Trailblazer: wow! Six wings!

Trailblazer: aww

Sunday: ...

_